Wednesday morning, 3-year-old Tino Torpedo woke up and started getting ready for the most important day of his life. Tino was going to apply to NASA.
“I’m going to the moon,” Tino said.
He was really excited. After perfecting the ABC song, memorizing how to count to 100, and taking a daily five-hour class to learn multivariable calculus, Tino decided that it was finally time to take the jump and join NASA.
“I’m a strong, independent man now,” Tino exclaimed. “I should be more than capable of getting to the moon and back.”
Knowing it’d be a long day, Tino started packing his bag with all the essentials: a bottle of milk, some crayons, a diaper (just in case), and a bottle of Gerber puffs.
“I’m feeling confident,” Tino said. “I’ve lived for three years. That’s 36 whole months of experience! That’s ten more months than baby Buzzy who’s also applying for the job. He’s only got 26.”
But to Tino’s mom, Becky Torpedo, Mama T, those extra 10 months on baby Buzzy mean nothing.
“The second Tino was born, I tried to get him to submit a job application to Microsoft, but all he did was cry,” she said. “One-year-old Jackie Kaboozle from down the street has already released 15 original violin concertos, won 12 Olympic gold medals in ice skating, pole vaulting, and gymnastics, found the cure to cancer, and is currently the head designer at Apple. Tino’s only released three concertos, helped to find a new vaccine for Hepatitis B, and won two golds in professional men’s ice hockey. I’m worried that colleges won’t want him.”
Colleges did not, in fact, want him.
“We’re looking for something special,” senior college admissions officer Mo Dudoku said. “The kid’s gotta have a spark to ’em, y’know? These days, I could grab any 5-year-old kiddo off the streets and have him teach me wave-particle duality. It’s nothing special. We’re looking for someone who shoots for the stars.”
And that’s what Tino’s trying to do. Literally.
“You know what?” Tino said. “I change my mind about the whole moon thing. A lot of people have already flown there before. I should aim higher. I know, I’ll fly to the sun!”
Tino’s aspiration to reach for the 27 million degree star somewhat intrigued Dudoku when he heard about it.
“It would look really good on his resume if he was able to film a TikTok of himself doing a cartwheel near the sun’s core and gathering a bottle of pure helium while simultaneously going into a two-year coma after getting hit by a space rock, surviving it while learning to overcome his PTSD from that experience, then publishing a book about it and getting an interview on Stephen Colbert’s Late Show,” Dudoku said. “Doing that would really make him stand out. Other than that, his chances of getting into even UC Merced are pretty slim; he started applying for jobs really late.”
Whether or not Tino gets the job at NASA could mean life or death for his college career.
“Wish me luck!” Tino said, a tiny-toothed grin spreading across his face.
After getting unbuckled by his mom, Tino jumped out of his car seat, making his way to the interviewing room. Mama T waited anxiously in the car for her son to come out.
As minutes turned to hours, Mama T started biting her nails and bouncing her legs up and down with anxiety. Then, three hours later, Tino came out of NASA, a defeated look on his face—he didn’t get the job.
“He’s a failure,” Mama T said. “Average 11-year-olds these days teach quantum physics at Stanford, but Tino’s just started learning chartered accountability. How does he expect to get into any good colleges like Harvard or MIT? I knew he should’ve started searching for internships years ago. The next child I have will start working in the womb.”
Poor Tino.
“I have no future,” Tino cried.
